


Picture This

by Veritas03



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gift Fic, M/M, Secret Relationship, professional Quidditch players
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 04:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5613928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veritas03/pseuds/Veritas03
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry hates being obligated to participate in publicity shots for his Quidditch team. But this time he’s got company – rival Seeker Draco Malfoy, of course!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picture This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sevfan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevfan/gifts).



> **Beta:** Sevfan!! Thank you, love!
> 
>  **A/N** This is a HAPPY BIRTHDAY fic for my dear friend and fabulous beta, Sevfan. I miss you.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Photo-shoots were one of Harry Potter’s least favorite things to do. Unfortunately, his participation in such events was a stipulation of his contract with the Montrose Magpies. It was actually a fairly standard clause in the contracts of professional Quidditch players, but it did seem to Harry that – of his teammates – he was most frequently chosen to participate in anything related to publicity for the team. He had, in fact, decided that it was an issue he would make a point of renegotiating as soon as possible.

Today’s photo-shoot was part of a series of promotions for the upcoming Quidditch Championship. The League had hired Croesus Whippleton – a well-known, highly sought-after photographer - to ‘capture the spirit of competition’ between the final two teams. Harry, content to be out of the loop regarding such matters, had never heard of Whippleton and was, so far, none too impressed. The self-important photographer surrounded himself with dozens of assistants and people who seemed to serve no other purpose than to stand around in amazement at the brilliance that was Croesus Whippleton.

Harry didn’t think much brilliance had been required to come up with the angle the photographer had chosen to express the ‘spirit of competition’ between the Magpies and the Falmouth Falcons for this particular shoot. In fact, Harry suspected that the League had strongly suggested to Croesus that he should feature the teams’ Seekers and their well-known, long-standing rivalry. A match earlier in the season between the Magpies and the Falcons had proven that the public would clamor to watch Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy fight over the Snitch. The fact that Draco had succeeded in beating Harry to the Snitch in that earlier match had fans of the sport practically frothing to witness a second confrontation.

And so, Harry and Draco had spent the first part of the shoot aloft, flying around within the limited area decreed by Croesus, pretending to reach for the Snitch. Harry had to admit to being at least a little impressed that Croesus had snapped these pictures while astride a broom himself – with, of course, a tremendous amount of help from assistants whose job it was to keep him from falling.

Once more on the ground, Harry gratefully accepted a bottle of water from Jess – one of Whippleton’s assistants who had been assigned to get Harry where he needed to be when he needed to be there – and lounged in an uncomfortable canvas chair. Croesus’ helpers were in a frenzy, preparing things for the next segment of the shoot. Not that anyone appeared to be actually doing that much – aside from rushing around in response to Whippleton’s constant – and in Harry’s opinion, inane – commands. Harry managed to keep from rolling his eyes and turned to look at his ‘rival.’

Draco sat not too far away apparently immune to the chaos surrounding them. At some point since they had finished the aerial shots, he had donned sunglasses. He sat very still. To some, he might even appear to be sleeping, but Harry doubted that Draco would be likely to let his guard down in such a way when surrounded by so many people. Draco’s change in expression, from blank to barely masked distaste, gave Harry a warning of Whippleton’s approach before the photographer’s voice boomed.

“Right then,” said Croesus as he approached the two athletes with gushing enthusiasm that, at the same time, managed to sound artificial. The snide comments he’d let slip about Quidditch and athletes throughout the day had made it clear that he did not consider his subjects up to par with his typical clientele. Harry hadn’t been certain if Whippleton thought he was being subtle, or simply didn’t think these ‘low-brow’ Quidditch players would understand his jibes. “Those were some brilliant in-air shots. You lads are astounding – it’s as if you both know the next move the other will make!”

Harry took a drink from his water bottle and cut a quick, surreptitious glance at Draco. The git had his mask of indifference once more pasted on his face. Harry was certain only _he_ recognized the hint of that infamous smirk.

“Next we’ll get the close ups. Don’t fret – these should be easy compared to the action shots.” Whippleton – who seemed to be checking his camera, approving/disapproving various items held up to him by his army of assistants, and talking a hundred miles a minute – suddenly paused to cast an assessing gaze up at the sun. “We’ve still got plenty of good light. No! Don’t touch their hair – let’s leave them windblown.”

“Lucky for you then, Potter,” Draco murmured into Harry’s ear. When had he moved so close? “‘Windblown’ is the look you roll out of bed with each morning, isn’t it?”

“You should know,” Harry whispered back, trying to ignore the effect Draco had on him. The bastard was gorgeous – even more so than usual – with his hair mussed and color wind-chaffed onto his cheeks. And with their current proximity, Draco’s scent – a mix of light sweat, sandalwood soap, and leather gear – teased sense memories of the countless times they had spent moving with, breathing, and tasting each other.

“Everyone into position now! Let’s do this! Facing each other, gentlemen,” Croesus commanded. Harry and Draco allowed themselves to be led onto the set hung with banners of the Montrose Magpies and the Falmouth Falcons. “Now – rival Seekers! Quidditch Championship! Show me those ‘my team will wipe yours off the face of the earth, kill or be killed, locked in a battle for the ages’ glares.” Whippleton continued his litany of absurd instructions as he snapped away with his camera. “Come on, boys, make me feel that competitive burn. Generate some heat!”

“What do you say, Potter,” Draco taunted with a whisper. “Think we can generate some heat?”

They were standing mere inches from each other, glares burning up the distance between them. Harry didn’t think he could manage to speak the way Draco had – seemingly without moving his lips. So he snarled instead.

“Brilliant, Harry! That’s perfect – you look like you want to devour him! No! Draco, you can’t laugh! Show me that ‘ready to attack! Defend my team’s title to the death!’ Malfoy ferocity!! Yes, more!!”

Much, much later the illustrious Croesus Whippleton expressed seemingly genuine thanks to them for a job well done – claiming these publicity shots would sell more tickets to the upcoming Quidditch Championship match than any other marketing effort. Draco had merely slipped his sunglasses on and, once again, assumed his blasé air. Harry just nodded and sipped his water. Finally, Whippleton seemed satisfied that he’d made enough of an effort to engage these moody professional Quidditch players and bustled off, his massive entourage following close behind him.

“I don’t think he likes us,” Harry said. Now that their job was done, they had apparently been left to gather their belongings and see themselves gone.

“Do we care?” Draco grabbed Harry’s water bottle and took a long drink.

“Do you know what I love about Apparition?” Harry asked, apparently apropos of nothing, as he admired the way Draco’s throat worked at swallowing the water. “We can both leave at the same time and no one will know we’re going to the same place.”

Draco handed the water back to Harry. “Let’s make that my place, shall we? I’m out of my shampoo at yours.”

Harry smirked. “You might as well restock at my place. When my team wins the championship, you’ll be moving in full-time, after all.”

“Dream on, Potter,” Draco scoffed. “When my team obliterates yours, _you’ll_ be moving out of that appalling excuse for a pureblood residence and into _my_ place.”

Harry threw down his water bottle and stepped into Draco’s personal space. “Your team hasn’t a chance!”

Draco closed the small distance between them and, using the extra two inches of height he had, glared down upon Harry. “Forgetting our first match this season, are you? When my team pulverized yours – aided in no small way by their magnificent Seeker.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Harry said. “The Seeker who used underhanded tactics to –”

“Oh, don’t start with that again!” Whippleton and his group had moved on, and the few assistants to who remained to strike the set and pack away equipment were probably not close enough to overhear their conversation. Erring on the side of caution – since he knew Harry wouldn’t think to – Draco cast a quick _Muffliato_ before continuing. “You’re the one who was _begging_ for it the night before the match. ‘Come on, Draco! Pound my arse! What d’ya think Cushioning Charms are for?’”

“You’ll be the one wanting Cushioning Charms when I’m done with you,” Harry said, the ache of his hardening cock lending a quite definite edge to the words. They stood mere inches from one another, heat seeming to burn up all the oxygen, leaving them panting for breath.

Draco’s smirk was pure, unadulterated wickedness, his voice an evil purr. “Talk is cheap, Potter.” He leaned impossibly closer. “Although, you know how much it turns me on when you get all… forceful.” Straightening again, Draco stepped back and gave Harry a look that was equal parts blatant lasciviousness and undeniable challenge. “But if you think you’re going to do anything to this arse of mine, you’re going to have to catch it first!” And in the next instant he was gone.

Harry laughed. “Bastard!” he muttered just before Apparating after his aggravatingly sexy boyfriend.

With the two Seekers gone, the assistants who had been assigned to them moved forward from where they had been waiting – obviously unnoticed – to clear the area. Jess looked shocked, but at least Holly, the other assistant, looked equally surprised.

“Wow – Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy living together? Did you hear that?” Holly asked.

“Everything up to when Mr. Malfoy cast that _Muffliato_ ,” Jess said. “I wonder what they were saying after that.”

“I can just imagine! Did you see the way they were looking at each other? That was _so_ hot!” The other assistant suddenly turned to Jess. “Ooh! I’ve got to tell my sister! She’s Draco’s biggest fan!”

Jess grabbed the girl’s arm. “Wait, Holly! You can’t do that! Obviously they don’t want anyone to know they’re together.”

Holly looked as if she was about to argue, but sighed pitifully instead. “You’re right. And Croesus would fire me if he found out I leaked personal information about a client.” Holly sighed again. “But they’re _so_ hot!”

Jess put an arm around Holly’s shoulder. “I know. But think of it this way – even if you told someone, who would believe you? I mean – Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy as lovers? How likely is that?”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” Holly smiled suddenly. “But at least _we_ know it’s true!”

Jess smiled. “Yep – and no one will ever convince us otherwise!”

The End


End file.
